


The Lesson

by BridgetteIrish



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Breathing, F/F, Novice Singer Kara, Opera AU, Opera Singer Cat, Sensual but not smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7371160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgetteIrish/pseuds/BridgetteIrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara Danvers, Cat Grant's personal dresser, dreams of being a great soprano someday.  But she needs work, and just the right teacher...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> A pal's work project inspired a flurry of sin bin opera fics.  
> This is my humble contribution.  
> Many thanks to reginalovesemma and rtarara for the edits and for pulling me back from the gratuitous smut.  
> It's better this way ;-)  
> Once again, thanks to the squad for all the inspiration and such joy.

The house lights rose, flooding the backstage with enough light to see the shadows on the faces of the stage hands wielding the fly lines that would bring the curtain down on another performance of Tosca, the titular role played by the great Cat Grant, being hailed as “The Most Powerful Voice in the World.”

Cat Grant, whose name was being whispered in the same breath as Callas and Sutherland; Cat Grant, who inspired standing ovations every night and whose fans swarmed the stage door despite never getting so much as a smile or autograph.  Cat Grant, who would raise eternal hell if her port wasn’t in her hand and her backstage robe across her shoulders before she reached the end of the curtain legs.

Kara Danvers, Cat’s designated dresser, removed the heavy, beaded shawl and layered bustle from her star’s costume with practiced efficiency, slinging them over her shoulder and shrugging Cat into her chiffon robe even as she strode through stagehands and chorus members towards her dressing room.  From a nearby props table, Kara grabbed a half-full glass of dark port, sweeping it into Cat’s outstretched hand.  She focused for a split second on the electric thrill that sped through her at the touch of Cat’s cool fingers on her own.

By the time they arrived in the quiet sanctuary of Cat’s dressing room, the glass was empty and Kara was refilling it from the decanter on the small bar in the corner.  Cat took a tiny sip from her fresh glass and laid in on the vanity as she began to remove bangles from her wrists and Kara began removing the dark wig.

Kara took an extra second placing it on the wig head as Cat let out a breathy moan and shook out her blonde curls.  This was Kara’s favorite part of the evening, watching the star shrug off her character and seeing the beautiful woman emerge from under the guise of performance.  As Cat removed her makeup and swept flower scented moisturizer across her flawless skin, Kara worked open the zippers, fasteners and binding that made up the many layers of Cat’s costume.  Her gown, layers of petticoats, underskirts, and the corset, with its silken ribbons snaking up Cat’s bare spine.  Kara’s knuckles brushed against pale, soft skin as she worked the ribbon loose and her eyes betrayed her as she ordered herself not to look as the corset slipped away.  She hung it on the rack behind her, making note that it would have to be cleaned in the morning.  She turned back to Cat, a soft, black cotton button down open and waiting.  Kara kept her gaze trained to the floor as Cat slipped into the shirt braless and pulled on a pair of dark grey linen pants and tasteful white slippers.

Kara looked up just in time to see Cat collapse back into her chair, close her eyes in relief, lick her lips tiredly and drain the remainder of her second port.

“You were brilliant tonight, Miss Grant.”  The compliment came out in a breathy whisper.

Cat forced a smile.  “Thank you, Kiera.  My car?”

“It will be here in ten minutes, Miss Grant.”  Kara hesitated for a moment, but gathered her courage.  She knew Cat’s comfort, happiness and well-being wasn’t strictly her job, but she couldn’t help but care for this sublimely talented, beautiful, abrasive woman.  She enjoyed the opportunity to bring her pleasure.  “D-do you need… anything else?”  Kara licked her lips and kneeled on the floor in front of her diva, laying tentative hands on Cat’s knees, brushing her thumbs against them gently.

In a gesture that was almost affectionate, Cat forced Kara’s chin up so their eyes met.  “You recognized the tension during Vissi d’arte tonight, didn’t you, Kiera?  You can always see when I’m stifled.”

Kara nodded, remembering the nearly imperceptible tightness in a normally open jaw, saw the slight shrug of shoulders laser-trained to stay relaxed, noticed the flutter of eyelids as the most powerful voice in the world struggled for her high note.  “Yes, Miss Grant.  You were still magnificent.  Nobody noticed but me.  And I only noticed because I… study you.”  Kara’s eyes dropped to the floor where she still knelt and hoped Cat would allow her to… care for her tonight.

Cat swept her thumb across Kara’s cheek.  “Not tonight, dear.”

Swallowing a disappointed sigh, Kara stood, helped Cat to her feet, threaded a light scarf around her neck and handed her the black handbag from the dressing table next to her.  “Good Night, Miss Grant.”

Cat placed a kiss in the air next to Kara’s cheek.  “A little quicker with the change in Act II tomorrow, Kiera, hm?” she demanded before sweeping from the room.

++++++++++

Kara waited a full ten minutes before leaving Cat’s dressing room.  She was sure everyone had gone for the night and it was safe to emerge.  Safe to use this time to indulge in her own secret fantasy.

She timidly crept onto the stage.  The ghost light shining from the orchestra pit cast an eerie glow across the stage floor and over the red velvet of the first rows of seats.  The rest of the theatre was plunged in darkness.  Kara closed her eyes and felt for any presence in the empty space.  There was always the soft presence of the theatre ghost, a small, sweet boy who could be seen in the catwalks from the stage during pre-show.  But she did not feel him now.  She was alone.

Kara took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes… and sang.

She sang the aria she mouthed along with Cat Grant every night.  The same aria that Cat had believed so disastrous that very evening.  Kara Danvers had been practicing Vissi d’art since she was twelve years old.  Her father, a tenor with the Belgian National Opera, and her soprano mother, had been teaching her when they were killed in a theatre fire months before her thirteenth birthday.

Her voice rose to the balconies and bounced from the empty seats.  The walls in the box seats tossed her voice back to her and Kara basked in every note.  She wavered a bit on the climactic high note, running out of breath and tapering off to silence before she was ready.  She dropped her head and a tear slipped from her eye.  She’d never be a great soprano if she couldn’t hold a coda for more than a few seconds.

“You must breathe, Kiera.”

Kara let out a yelp and squinted into the inky darkness of the theatre to find a halo of blonde hair and a sly smile in the middle of the third row.  “Miss Grant!  I thought you’d gone!  I-I was… I was just… I’ll go… I’m sorry.  I know I shouldn’t but…”

“Quiet!”  

Kara pressed her lips together.

Cat rose with the practiced poise she carried every moment.  If Kara didn’t know any better, she would swear she floated to the aisle.  Kara held her breath, not daring to move as Cat emerged from the shadows.  She sauntered towards the stage and up the steps to the stage floor.  She was silent in her slippers, but Kara could hear the brush of linen and cotton as Cat drew nearer.  She circled Kara once, appraising her breath, posture and presence.  Kara swallowed nervously as, from behind, small hands forced her shoulders out towards the audience, then moved down to square her hips as well.  Kara gasped as she felt the press of Cat’s soft breasts against her back.  One hand moved up to cup her chin, forcing it up and out, towards the box seats Kara would never be able to afford.  The other travelled low, low, low on Kara’s belly, fingers splayed almost as if holding the fire that had ignited somewhere deep inside her.

“Do not make a noise, Kara.”  Cat’s breath ghosted across Kara’s neck.  “Just breathe into my hand.  Deep.”

Kara took in a shaky, shallow breath, unable to focus on drawing air, ruined as she was by Cat’s proximity.  Her shoulders rose, her chest expanded, the breath trapped itself in her throat.

Cat’s hands clenched in anger, shooting pain through Kara’s face and stomach.  “No. Shoulders down, chest out.  Plant yourself and settle.  Focus, Kara.  Breathe.  In.”

This time, Kara took a strong, low breath, deep into her center.  She felt every inch where her belly touched Cat’s hand as her breath expanded beneath it.  It felt as though Cat was cradling her with that hand just below her navel.  Cat’s hand pressed harder against the soft curve beneath it.  “Yes, darling.  There’s your breath.  Again.  Breathe.”

Kara breathed and Cat’s hand rose again.  This time the depth of Kara’s breath expanded not only into Cat’s steady hand, but through her back, against Cat’s stomach and breasts, pressed against her from behind.  Kara felt her draw closer, slipping a leg between her own, lending her presence, but not her support.  Cat’s nails dug into her abdomen just a bit.  “Once more.  Breathe.”  Kara felt her breath fill her up and bring her closer to Cat’s touch once again.  “Now.  Sing.  Your high note.”

Kara didn’t trust her voice to make any sound.  Instead of singing, she spoke.  Her voice came as a whisper into the silent theatre.  “I- I can’t.”

Cat tutted and dipped her hand lower on Kara’s abdomen.  “You can, but you’re afraid.”  Fingertips dipped below Kara’s own black drawstring pants; the ones she wore to stay cool in the warm, stagnant backstage. “Fear is a constrictor.  It is a vice, cutting off your breath, choking you.  You need to release your voice.  Relax and let me help you.”

Kara nodded.  

“Good.  Give me your voice, Kara.”  Cat’s hand supported her center once again, back in its home over the curve of her belly.  Her outstretched thumb traced the underside of Kara’s ribs, where her diaphragm sat.  “Breathe.”  Cat’s hand rose and fell.  Kara concentrated on the way Cat breathed with her, her soft breasts against her back.  “Again.  Yes.  Once more.  In.  Now.  Sing.”

And Kara sang, the phrase building to the climax, four bars leading to a high, clear sustained note that rang through the cavernous emptiness of the house.  She cut the note herself, with breath to spare as the remainder of her air supply rushed from her and she turned her head just enough so her cheek brushed against Cat’s open lips.

“Exquisite,” Cat whispered against Kara’s soft cheek, her arm circling Kara’s waist entirely.  And then warm, strong, slender arms fell away.  The protective, guiding presence was gone and Cat was walking away.

Kara gained her composure just in time to shout a hurried, “Thank you, Miss Grant!” after her.

Cat stopped abruptly and turned fiery, bright eyes on Kara’s own.  “Come an hour early tomorrow, Kiera.  One of those useless chorus girls was fired today.  You’ve earned yourself an audition.”  And she was gone.


End file.
